Expectations
by avi17
Summary: Brady has a crappy morning, and Owain manages to be surprisingly tactful about making him feel better. (Owain/Brady)


Actually wrote this months ago but completely forgot to post it anywhere but tumblr. Written to cheer up a friend who had a similarly crappy morning.

[begin]

Owain ducked through the entrance to his tent with none of his usual dramatic flair, exhausted from the training yard and eager to be rid of the sweaty clothing that clung uncomfortably to his skin. As soon as the flap fluttered shut, he yanked his tunic over his head and threw it atop the pile of blankets on his and Brady's sleeping palette. Frowning, he set his weapon down with more care before walking over to move the offensive-smelling shirt before it stank up their bed, but he paused as the bedding beneath it shifted and grunted in complaint. Tossing the garment aside revealed that the pile had been mostly comprised of his tent-mate and lover, who was lying curled up on his side, up to his neck in blankets and looking despondent.

Worried, Owain's first instinct was to reach over and rest a hand on Brady's forehead. "It's midafternoon," he pointed out unnecessarily. "Why are you still in bed? Are you sick?"

Brady swatted at the hand, glaring unconvincingly. "I ain't sick. Lemme alone."

Owain flopped down to sit cross-legged on the palette, his companion's response having effectively ensured that he would absolutely not leave him alone. "Come on," he wheedled, knowing that his preferred flowery speech would likely get him nowhere in this situation, "don't try to act like this isn't weird. _Something's_ wrong." Brady's silence confirmed his suspicions, and he asked, "What happened?"

The priest groaned, shifting enough to reveal part of his other hand, and Owain noticed that it was wrapped tightly in bandages. "I got my ass beat trainin' with Pop this morning, just like always, 'cept this time I managed to fall tryin' to dodge and snapped my damn wrist."

The swordsman leaned down to embrace his companion comfortingly, before pausing. "Can I…? Be warned, I'm sweaty and gross." Brady made a sort of noncommittal grunt that Owain took to mean he didn't care, so he slid into bed behind him, wrapping an arm around the scrawny waist and burying his face in prickly blond hair.

Brady's body relaxed a little at the familiar warmth, and he continued, "Ma fixed it up for me best she could, along with lecturin' me about bein' careless, and my posture and my talkin' and whatever else she could think of, like usual. She just…" He sighed, and Owain suspected he'd reached the heart of the matter. "She's always got somethin' wrong with me to go on about, and Pop looked all disappointed when I screwed up, like I ain't improvin' like he thought I would." He paused, then admitted, "Sometimes it feels like I can't do nothin' right."

It was nothing Owain hadn't heard before, but he still hated knowing that someone he loved so much valued himself so little. "Nothing right, huh?" Brady still seemed disinclined to look at him, so he spoke into the delicate skin on the back of his neck. "Yeah, those cakes you made last week before we left town that everybody loved were a horrible failure. Gathering flowers for Noire when she was sick again and you weren't was awful too. And I'm sure Nah didn't appreciate you diving into that river to rescue her at all." He could see the pink blush of embarrassment slowly creeping up Brady's neck and cheeks and knew he was winning. Softer, he continued, "You saved my father's life the other day." And he had, running across the battlefield to close a nasty gash in Lon'qu's side before even Lissa could get to him. "And you came back in time with us to help our parents in the first place." Only half-joking, he concluded, "If those are the kinds of things you do when you're messing everything up, then you must be an unstoppable force of legend when you succeed!"

The pink in Brady's face had darkened to red. "Alright, I get it, I'm bein' dumb," he grumbled. "Go back to hero-mode or somethin' already, this much serious talk from ya is weirdin' me out."

The dark-haired boy laughed, pulling his friend closer despite the bony shoulder blades that dug uncomfortably into his chest, and pressed an affectionate kiss to the back of his neck. "You're not being dumb. I get it- your parents expect a lot out of you, and you want to live up to that. I feel the same way with my dad," he admitted. "He taught me most of what I know about the sword , and having him back now, I wonder a lot what he thinks of the results."

The corners of Brady's lips curled into a smile in spite of himself. The concession from his partner was oddly comforting- it wasn't often that Owain admitted to insecurity. "I'm sure he ain't disappointed."

"Your parents aren't either," Owain replied. "You're going to be everything they could want in a son, if they have any taste at all."

Brady snorted at that. "Well, if Ma's got anything, it's taste. So I guess I'm good." They both laughed at that, Brady enjoying the unusual simplicity and sincerity. Owain's lips were still hovering over the back of his neck, and he shivered slightly as he felt another kiss pressed there, then a tiny nip behind his ear.

"Forget about your parents." Owain nuzzled that same spot to earn another shudder, and the naked skin of his torso and arms felt warmer, more enticing. "I bet there are still a few other things you can do just fine too."

Brady smirked and raised an eyebrow, finally turning around to meet his partner's eyes. "That sounded kinda like a challenge."

Owain grinned. "You bet it was."

[end]

If you liked it, please leave feedback. :)


End file.
